


Roses Are Red...

by nesrynfaliq



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, acomaf spoilers, cheek kisses, post acomaf, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nesrynfaliq/pseuds/nesrynfaliq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post ACOMAF; the Spring Court has settled and Feyre brings her court and sisters to stay. On a walk through the gardens she comes across Lucien and Elain finally managing to steal a moment together amidst all the chaos. </p>
<p>Lucien blushes, actually blushes, his skin flaring as deeply red as his hair and rubs the back of his neck as a broad smile spreads across his face. Elain giggles again clearly very pleased with this and stands up again to gently kiss his other cheek. Lucien’s blush deepens even further and I stare at him in utter amazement as he dithers on the spot before leaning down and very gently kissing Elain’s nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses Are Red...

It’s odd, being back at the Spring Court now. So much has changed since Tamlin first brought me here. I’ve changed. The world has changed. But the gardens at least remain - beautiful as ever – if not more so now. I find comfort in them still, in the peace and quiet and the fresh open spaces, so unlike the oppressive darkness that still stalks my nightmares sometimes.

Colour and shape burst out at me from every direction – each plant simultaneously vying for my complete attention and focus while also blending with the beds around them to give a pleasant overall effect. It’s something I’ll have to try and capture the next time I paint, making everything stand out yet meld perfectly together at the same time.

The sound of quiet voices and gentle laughter interrupts me and jolts me out of my reverie. Looking up I see Elain, Elain walking through the gardens arm in arm with Lucien. I blink in surprise at the sight of my friend and sister together. I’d been trying all week without success to encourage him to just talk to my sister since we’d brought her here.

Everything about this court suits Elain, right down to the magic that now burns in her veins that she can use to grow any plant into any shape she chooses. I know she’s already used it to spruce up some of the darker, emptier areas of the Spring Court, letting it run wild with the raw power that infuses the air in this court. She’s radiant and I’ve never seen her look prettier, or happier, than she has done here.

But Lucien had avoided her, barely looking at her if they were in the room and as far as I knew they hadn’t said two words to each other and now they’re walking together through the gardens, Elain comfortably holding Lucien’s arm and letting him lead her, as though they do this every day, and have done for decades.

They both look happy. Elain is laughing almost continually at whatever Lucien is saying and there’s a light twinkling in his russet eye that I realise I’ve never truly seen before, kindled every time he looks at her. And the smile on his face – such a rare sight after the darkness that’s plagued him these months – is different from the ones I’ve seen there before. It’s warm and soft and tempered with a tenderness I might not have believed. He looks younger and whole somehow, in a way he never did before, as though he needed Elain’s light to contrast and bring out this last part of him and complete him.

I watch them from my place by a large, bold pot full of sunflowers larger than any I’ve ever seen before – one of Elain’s additions to the garden – as they meander comfortably along the gravel paths. They seem at ease with one another, already connecting the way the bond between them urges them to do, but both a little shy and unsure of themselves all the same.

They pause on the edge of a bed full of demure little blue flowers and Lucien turns to her, looking more hesitant than I’ve ever seen him before. I’m used to the confident, silver-tongued emissary, witty, thoughtless remarks to everything bursting out of him with arrogant ease, heedless and careless, saying what he thought whatever it cost him – a lesson that losing his eye even hadn’t taught him – but here, with Elain, I swear I hear him stumble as he speaks to her.

Elain’s smile is shy when she nods to him, letting her body tentatively brush against hers as she moves in closer to him, peering at something in his hands. With a flourish Lucien produces a large bouquet of flowers, red roses dotted with smaller blue violets and Elain gasps in surprise, evident awe and delight at the sudden appearance of the flowers and I duck my head, hiding my smile.

Typically Lucien. But the pretty blush that spreads across my sister’s face as she accepts the flowers from him with a sweet smile and smells them, her eyes still on him quickly softens me again. He might not be particularly subtle or reserved about it but his exuberance seems to appeal to her.

I glance up at them again in time to see Elain stand on her toes, one hand on Lucien’s shoulder encouraging him down to her so she can kiss him on the cheek in thanks for the flowers, flushing furiously as she does so and peering shyly up at him over the flowers in her hands as she sinks back down again, watching him anxiously for his reaction.

Lucien _blushes_ , actually blushes, his skin flaring as deeply red as his hair and rubs the back of his neck as a broad smile spreads across his face. Elain giggles again clearly very pleased with this and stands up again to gently kiss his other cheek. Lucien’s blush deepens even further and I stare at him in utter amazement as he dithers on the spot before leaning down and very gently kissing Elain’s nose.

She blinks at him in amazement for a moment then a laugh bursts from her a full, loud, rich laugh that I’ve never heard before. The smile that Lucien gives her in answer to this transforms his face and the light that blazes in his eyes is more than I’ve ever seen before, more than I ever believed was left inside him. But somehow she found it.

Reaching out Elain takes his hand in hers, her other hand still holding tightly onto the bunch of flowers he gave her and leads him assertively through the gardens, pointing out what looks to be her favourite flowers while he trails meekly along in her wake, drinking in every word she speaks as though it’s the air he breathes. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it, the tall, angled High Fae, a trained and talented warrior in his own right, who stands at least a foot taller than the slim, willowy girl who leads him around, but there’s a certain rightness to it that I can’t get away from.

As I watch them I feel someone shift and step up beside me and I turn in time to find Nesta draw level with me, her arms crossed over her chest, her piercing gaze fixed steadily on Lucien and Elain, now bending down to examine a row of delicate white snowdrops while Elain prattles steadily to Lucien. He makes a no doubt sarcastic comment and to my delighted surprise I watch her very gently shove him in protest then yelps in alarm and hastily grabs his arm as he nearly overbalances and topples into the flower bed, caught unawares.

I tear my eyes away from them to blink at Nesta instead, who still watches them with unflinching focus, “You’re not going to interrupt them are you?” I ask gently but my hand reaches out to touch her elbow, ready to stop her if she tries. They both deserve this.

But Nesta just shakes her head, “No,” she says simply without looking at me, her lips quirking into a faint smile, “It’s about time they at least talked.”

I stare at her in amazement for a moment. I knew that discovering her own mating bond with Cassian and gaining a new understanding of what that was like might have changed her views on it but she was always so fiercely protective of Elain that I hadn’t expected her to allow Lucien within twenty feet of her before she’d taken the time to assess him and decide.

There’s something a little too knowing in Nesta’s smirk and my eyes widen as I say slowly, “I never told Lucien that her favourite flowers are roses and violets...” Nesta’s smile broadens just enough to confirm my suspicions, “You did this?” I demand, thunderstruck, “How?” Lucien had resisted every effort I’d made at encouraging him to talk to Elain, no matter what I said or did.

Nesta’s smile is nothing short of wicked, “You were being too gentle,” she says, blithely examining her nails.

“I hope you didn’t damage him permanently,” I say, examining Lucien a little more closely but if the encounter with Nesta scarred him he certainly isn’t showing it now as he gently tucks one of the violets from her bouquet into Elain’s hair.

“No,” Nesta says evenly, “He just needed a little push in the right direction, that’s all.”

I stare pointedly at her but she only shrugs half-heartedly, clearly not about to spill her secrets to me any time soon. We both turn to watch them again and I say softly, “She looks so happy,” Nesta’s razor-sharp smile softens as she notes this too and nods her approval.

“He’s better for her than that Fae-hating bastard she was going to marry,” she sniffs and a flicker of understanding at her interference runs through me at her words.

Nesta saw two men react to Elain, the one who gave her an iron wedding ring and would have hunted her down and butchered her if he ever found out what she’d become; and the one who would roar and fight and storm at kings to protect her and slaughter anyone who dared come near her. And she found a glimmer of her own spirit in Lucien; a kindred desire to protect, to burn the world to ash for those that matter, and she understood.

“He’s good for her,” I say quietly as I watch Elain smile and playfully toss some remark out to Lucien that makes him blink in surprise then offer her a wolfish smile of encouragement and toss something right back to her.

 I’ve never seen her as assertive or confident before. He brings out the spirit that she wraps in soft, sweet smiles; the spark of something that makes her able to handle Lucien’s fire and bite by drawing out a little of her own. Nesta nods her agreement and approval, a small smile curving her lips as she notices the same thing I do.

And I know, as I look up to see Elain cupping Lucien’s face in her hand, the side that bears the metal eye and the brutal scar and see the tension that flares in him at the contact and the way it melts away as she lightly strokes the slash in his skin with her thumb, a gentleness he’s rarely known, that she’ll be good for him too. And that they deserve this. They deserve each other.

“I’m glad you pushed him into talking to her,” I say to Nesta, knowing how hard it must have been for her to unbend her pride and go to him after spitting at him and rejecting him before, to give him another chance and let him see that decision.

But Nesta just nods, “So am I,” she bites her lip as though wondering whether or not to speak but at last she says, “With everything that’s going on just now...The war that’s coming...I thought she should have a chance at this,” she gestures to where Elain and Lucien stand together, talking quietly, “At getting to know someone who could make her feel,” she tightens her lips and I know I won’t get more from her but I don’t need to to know what, _who_ changed her mind about this.

We both look up in time to see Elain stand on her toes and softly kiss Lucien’s cheek once again in farewell before hurrying off, glancing over her shoulder at him and giving him a little wave as she goes. Lucien stands in the middle of the path gazing after her, looking a little dazed, lightly brushing his cheek where she kissed him. In his hands is a small round flower in various hues of red and orange and I realise she must have used her magic to make it just for him.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :)


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